Rise
by bethylgrixon
Summary: Beth has a mission: to crack a case that's already been solved. This will prove her worth as an agent. But what happens when she becomes involved with a gang member who wishes he were anything but? As the pieces fall into place, he shows her who he really is, and who he might've been. As the puzzle comes together, they have to act to keep each other from falling apart.


The line filed through the archway one by one, like so many meticulous ants before a summer rain. Beth flagged down a TSA agent. "I forgot something," she said, twisting her lip between her teeth. "Is it okay if I run and get it?"

The man rolled his eyes at her. "You're gonna have to hurry it up if you don't want to end up at the back of the line."

"Thank you!" She threw him a smile he didn't deserve.

Beth looped through the line and headed for the coffee shop, doubling back when the man was no longer looking in her direction. She slipped through the curtain that served as a barrier and stepped back into the line behind a man that was putting his shoes back on.

He didn't notice her. No one noticed the girl who had bypassed every security protocol in the book up until that point.

As part of her initiation, Beth was on her own for this part of the mission: returning to Georgia. She'd grown up there, isolated on the farm she had called her home. Now, she was going back.

But this wasn't a family reunion. Her family wouldn't even know she'd be in the same state as them.

No, this was business.

Beth remembered live oaks hung with Spanish moss garlands, standing guard over summer picnics in the dirt. She remembered riding Nellie through the woods, learning to drive an antiquated Ford down gravel roads, and splashing in the duck pond with Maggie and Shawn in the clammy southern heat.

She had loved**,** and would always love that way of life. But one day Beth had found herself packing her bags all the same, headed for the city.

She'd traveled. Las Vegas. Seattle. New York. It was all wild and new, living in these bustling whirlwinds of colorful lights that stayed on all through the night.

Yet, while travel had suited her, she had yearned for something more.

It had been Maggie that planted the seed.

"Things are crazy down here at the firm," she'd said, having just landed a job as a paralegal in Atlanta. "Andrea's got me swamped. Work is so draining, but it's worth it… it's like a puzzle. You get to put all the pieces together, except at the end, you don't get a cute picture of a puppy. You might save lives."

Beth had been taken with the idea, but she knew interpreting the law was not for her. No, that was all Maggie. Maggie was fire in female form. Beth, on the other hand, was all quiet observation and flawless intuition.

Becoming an agent had just made sense.

Her first case was something of a puzzle in and of itself. Her superior, Special Agent in Charge Walsh, would monitor her activity and determine whether she was a capable recruit, while allowing her time to transition into her new role. Georgia was the perfect place for that, as she was so familiar with life there.

The catch was that she had to crack her case all on her own.

But first, she'd have to figure out what exactly her case was. Walsh had told her that every new recruit was put through a rigorous training regimen: the Bureau had all the answers, but would share none of them with her.

The Bureau would step in to inform her of who the suspects in her case were, and would monitor her to make sure she didn't blow the agency's cover. Other than that, it was up to Beth to see the case through.

Beth chewed her lip as she neared the head of the line to the terminal, suspecting that every glance thrown her way was because someone had found her out. Someone had seen her avoid the metal detectors. Someone would see the outline of her gun on the inside of her jacket pocket. Someone would be on their way to arrest her any second now.

But then Beth was handing her ticket to the attendant. Soon she sat on the plane, butterflies fluttering in her stomach as it lifted off**,** and she realized she had accomplished her first objective.

Beth was Georgia-bound, and the butterflies continued their dance as she stifled her budding smile.

A few hours and half a can of soda later, Beth was touching down in her home state. She rolled her luggage through the airport, dodging people with tired eyes as she made her way to the car park.

A wheel on her suitcase caught on something**,** and her belongings dropped to the floor.

"Oh, my bad," a young man said**,** as he stooped to pick up her things. "Here."

The man passed her the handle of her bag**,** and Beth felt something pressing into the palm of her hand.

"It's no big deal," she said, clenching the bag's handle and the slip of paper he'd given to her.

Beth found a bathroom, pressing into the stall to read the paper. It was a fortune from a fortune cookie. The words, "It is better to play a poor hand well, than to blame the deck for not dealing better cards," were followed by a smiley face. Beth flipped it over and read the series of lottery numbers on the back: 6, 17, 42, 7, 5.

"Ugh. What does that even _mean…_?"

Beth slipped the fortune into her pocket. She would have to worry about it later.

A shrill tone echoed in the confines of the bathroom and Beth realized her agency phone was ringing. It never had before and she pulled it out, a sense of thrill running through her all the way to her fingertips.

"Agent Greene," a man said as soon as the call connected. "This is Grimes. You'll find that your apartment and car keys have been added to the front pocket of your luggage."

Beth looked down at her bag, noting the tiny bulge that hadn't been there before. She wondered how much help she'd actually received in boarding the plane in the first place.

"-Walsh has provided for you, which will be the third car from the left of the elevator," he was saying, dragging her out of her thoughts. "Special Agent Walsh has also provided me with your dossier, which I will deliver to you as time allows."

And he hung up, leaving her with more questions than answers.

Beth stashed her phone in her pocket and made her way to the car that the Bureau had left for her.

There was nothing special about the car, and that made it special in its own right. It needed a wash and paint chips dappled the dent in the bumper.

It was perfect.

She pulled out of the parking garage and into the city street beyond it. Atlanta was everything she remembered it to be: buildings and trees and traffic as far as her eye cared to see. Her clothes clung to her in the muggy Georgian heat as she drove to the apartment she'd been assigned.

The apartment had been chosen with care. It was on the opposite side of town from where Maggie lived, but more importantly, the complex housed a few of the members of the gang she would be monitoring.

That's all she knew about them: that they made up some gang based here in the city. Beth wondered what they could possibly have done to have attracted the FBI's attention; they left more trivial matters to local law enforcement.

But it was her job to find out, and she was going to do just that.

Beth's apartment was on the top floor. The doors here were further apart than on the lower levels, the units more spacious. Beth found hers, a corner model that had been outfitted by the Bureau.

The front door stood on tired hinges and it looked like all the others in the complex. Based on her briefing, though, Beth knew that it wasn't. Sure enough, when she unlocked the door she stepped into a musty foyer that led to a second door, which had no keyhole. There was no keypad, no lock or hinges, nothing – just a broad expanse of nondescript wood and plaster adorned with a retractable pull handle.

She pulled on the handle, but the door wouldn't budge. It was locked.

Beth's throat constricted. The day had been a stressful one for her, and she wanted to take some time to recuperate before beginning her mission the following morning. She would never accomplish that if she couldn't even get her door open.

At wit's end, she inspected the foyer. Nothing adorned the walls, save for a light switch. She flicked it up, noticing as she did so that it hesitated for the briefest moment before landing in the "on" position.

It gave her an idea, a literal light bulb moment.

She balanced the switch in the center position – neither on nor off. The plastic rectangle came away from the wall as she pulled on the switch, revealing a keypad beneath it.

Beth's elation was short-lived. She had a keypad now, but nothing to key in. She tried her birthday, and a little light flashed crimson**,** as if to chastise her for making such an obvious first guess.

Her social security number and name in numerals both set the light blinking, a mocking reminder that maybe, she wasn't cut out for this.

Beth fished through her pocket for the phone the Bureau had given her (maybe the phone number was the passcode?) when her fingers lighted on the fortune cookie fortune from earlier.

She entered the numbers from the back of the slip as she cursed her stupidity. 6, 17, 42, 7, 5. The light flashed green and the door slid open to reveal the room beyond.

The tension melted from her shoulders as she entered her new home. The front room was plain in decoration, but that was fine with Beth; the less attached she became, the less permanent this felt, the better equipped she would be to move on when all of this was over.

But that wouldn't be for some time, and Beth resolved to make the place a little more forgiving over the coming weeks. Aside from the bedroom, the apartment had a small office, a kitchen, a bathroom, and a spare bedroom (which she assumed must be in case another agent joined her on the case, because she wasn't allowed to have visitors), all of which were barren of any sort of personality. Beth figured it would take weeks to spruce it up, anyway.

Weeks. She had no idea how long this assignment would be, whether she'd be living here for months, or years.

Yawning, Beth decided she would cross that bridge when she came to it, and crawled under the drab bedcovers on her new bed.

A knock on her bedroom door roused her.

The bed creaked as she shot up. Beth wouldn't have expected a knock on her front door, let alone inside her apartment.

"Agent Greene?"

Was this a test? Should she deny her title? Beth had no idea what was going on.

"It's Special Agent Grimes. A word, if you please."

Beth deflated in relief as she tidied herself and answered the door. Walsh had told her that Grimes would be assigned to help her with her case. He had regretfully forgotten to tell her when he would be showing up, though, and Grimes himself hadn't been any more informative.

If Grimes disapproved of her disheveled appearance, it didn't show. He handed her a leather folder.

"I've secured your documentation. That folder's got everything you're going to need. And this, here," he said, giving her a yellow envelope, "is your briefing."

The papers felt heavy in her hands as she took in the gravity of the situation. Beth nodded at him, and something must have shown in her expression, because Grimes' features softened.

"Let me see your agency phone," he said, and she handed it over. "I'm Rick, but my codename for situations like this is Mike, okay? I'm putting my number in under "Mike". This is just in case your position is compromised and your phone leaves your possession."

Beth nodded. "Do I get to keep my name?"

"That's all in your folder," he said, but his gaze flickered and he didn't meet her eyes.

It made sense, she knew, to change her name. Yet it didn't sit well with her**, **and she knew it would take time to get used to.

Rick gave her back her phone."Just a few more matters we need to settle. Here's your credit card. While there's no limit, try to keep that down, okay? But it's there if you need it for anything related to the case.**"**

"I talked to Sha- to Special Agent Walsh," he said. "You can have the week off to get situated, and then start on the case on Monday."

Beth thanked him and watched him walk out the door before flinging the folder open.

Lily Shaw.

Beth sank down to the cushioned carpet at her feet, thinking that maybe, she'd bitten off far more than she could chew.

Maggie was in the same city as her, and she wasn't allowed to see her. None of her family could know that she'd left New York. And now, she had to give up her name.

Beth settled the stacks of papers on the desk in the office before returning to her bed. At least, she thought as she drifted off to sleep, she had the rest of the week to settle down.

She had a week to become Lily Shaw.


End file.
